


We Make the Rules

by aliassmith



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Cruise Ships, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliassmith/pseuds/aliassmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clay is working on his vendetta (and a fifth of whiskey), Pooch is annoyed, Cougar doesn't give massages, Aisha doesn't have time for your bullshit, and Jensen would really, really like to get out of this room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Make the Rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angie13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angie13/gifts).



“Your cabin.” Clay pointed to the small wooden table obscured by computer towers, hard drives and a particularly garish computer monitor covered in sparkly pirate and dinosaur stickers. “Workstation.”

“Ooh, balcony.” Jensen headed toward the sliding glass door promising picturesque ocean views and optimum fruity cocktail drinking ambiance. A hand caught his collar and dragged him back, guiding him into the chair at the overburdened table.

“Workstation,” Clay repeated. “Find me Carson and then find me an in.”

“And then balcony?”

“Well see,” Clay grumbled.

A pat on the shoulder and the sound of the door closing and Jensen was alone. For almost two whole minutes.

***

“No. No. Jensen. No. This is a joke. You’re all messing with me and for some stupid ass reason you thought this would be funny and this is a _joke_. Jensen. Tell me this is a joke.”

A Pooch-shaped shadow spilled over Jensen’s workstation. There was a definite air of looming.

“Well hey there! Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah. _Fancy_ that. The two of us. Meeting here. On the booked-out-months-in-advance cruise liner Clay was so generous to book for me and my wife. Crazy, right?”

“Well I for one am shocked.”

“Cut the shit Jensen. I saw Aisha in the casino and Clay was on 8 propping up the bar. Where’ve you stashed Cougar, huh? He teaching napkin folding to the old folks up on deck?”

“Look, I get it. You’re upset.”

“No. No I’m not upset. I’m way passed upset. What, you just couldn’t stand to be without me for two weeks so you all decided to tag along and shit all over the one chance Jolene and I have had to be alone together all year? Do you have any idea--”

“I do! Of course I do, man. You wouldn’t shut up for weeks about how much you were looking forward to this trip. And we all want to see you and Jolene happy, obviously we do. You deserve some time away from the baby and all. But I promise you, Clay didn’t buy these tickets for you just to take advantage. He honestly wanted you to have this. But then I checked the passenger manifest before you boarded and...you heard of C.C. Carson?”

“Carson. The guy Max is looking at as an investor.”

“One and the same.” Jensen sighed and ran a tired hand through his hair. “Man, we got a chance here to get close to one of Max’s potential inner circle goons. And if we can get to him before Max does…”

“So you’re saying…shit. Jensen. This is big.”

“Biggest kind of big. Clay wouldn’t have ordered us here if he didn’t think it was important.”

“You really think we got a shot?” 

“Pooch. _Pooch_. Linwood Bertrand Porteous. Would I lie to you?”

“What? Yes! And my middle name is not Bertrand.”

“It is now. I’m in charge of cover identities, remember?” Jensen passed Pooch a file. “Lesley Bertrand Hodgson, kitchen appliance salesman and part-time bingo enthusiast. You know they’ve got a game up on deck 12 starting at 3 o’clock. Don’t be shy now! You gotta keep that cover and be a joiner. I hear there’s a hamper up for grabs. You never know, it could be pie.”

“You know what, Jensen, you can take your god damn _hamper_ and you can—”

“Hey hey hey! Messenger here! As in ‘don’t shoot the’. I get that you’re pissed that we’re harshing your special married people time, but come on man. Look around. You got your girl, you got the big blue ocean far as the eye can see, and you got a freakin buffet of breakfast food just waiting for you to come scoop it up into your loving arms. Are you really gonna go crying to Clay over a tiny bit of subterfuge and surveillance when he’s giving you all of _this_?”

“He’s giving me nothing. He’s using my second honeymoon as a chance to follow through on his own personal vendetta.”

“And you’re letting him. You are letting him, right?”

Pooch snatched the champagne from the breakfast bar separating Jensen’s living area from the bed, already littered with cords and techno junk.

“I’m taking this. Jolene and I are gonna go enjoy that big blue ocean you mentioned. If I so much as hear a peep out of one of you assholes--”

“Zero peep in this show, I promise you.” Pooch raised an eyebrow. Jensen raised a cub scout salute. “Faithfully.”

Pooch pointed the bottle at him. “I’m still pissed.”

Jensen nodded. “As is your right.”

Pooch left with Jensen’s booze and, thankfully, a little less loom in his shadow than he’d come in with.

***

Jensen was color-coding his emergency Skittle supply when his cabin door swung open.

“Cougar. Hey.”

Jensen had the fleeting thought that Cougar looked almost smaller without his hat, but then Cougar covered the ten short steps between the doorway and the living area and the look in his eye more than made up the menace lost by the lack of head wear.

“What have you done?”

“Today? Hacker stuff mostly. I took a bath. Did you know they have baths here? It was cool. Kinda…wavy.”

Cougar slammed a piece of paper down onto the table next to Jensen’s Skittle pile.

“Your fake resume?”

“It says masseuse.”

“Well. Yeah. But that’s only one of a multitude of skills. Manny Barragán is a highly sought after spa technician. Anyone would be lucky to have their towels folded and their waters cucumbered by that guy.”

“They want me to give massages. I don’t give massages. You need to fix this.”

“We had to get you in the door, dude! Clay says Mrs. Carson is a big fan of facemasks and herbal saunas. If you can get close enough for a massage then maybe--”

“I. Don’t. Give. Massages.”

“Can’t you fake it?”

Cougar’s hand snapped forward, thumb pressing hard into Jensen’s neck.

“From this angle, there are three pressure points in your neck and shoulder I can reach that will cause you to lose consciousness.” His thumb rubbed a slow circle over Jensen’s pulse point. A second hand clapped down hard on Jensen’s right shoulder. “From here, there are five.”

“I count six.”

Cougar was silent but Jensen could still make out the question. He shrugged under Cougar’s loosened grip.

“What? I’ve got hobbies.”

The hand at his throat tightened in a way that was decidedly not amused.

Jensen swallowed dryly. “Right. Got it. You don’t give massages.”

“I don’t give massages.”

“I’ll fix it.”

“Yes you will,” Cougar said low against his ear, patted him once on the shoulder and then the door was swinging closed behind his retreating back.

“Everyone’s a critic,” Jensen sighed. 

***

“I need you.”

“Finally someone who recognizes greatness.”

Aisha rolled her eyes.

“I need you to come downstairs and help me with Carson’s kid.”

“I thought you said no contact with the kid? No, see, I know you did. Because I remember, both you and Cougar made it very clear to me that if Carson’s kid was in any way involved in what Clay does on this ship that certain parts of my manly anatomy would become…less manly.”

“And I stand by that promise. Which is why I need you. The kid’s been separated from his parents for the first time all week. He and his friends, they’re in the atrium right now. If someone can _keep them there_ then Cougar can deal with the wife while Clay and I get what we need from Carson.”

“So you need me to distract a horde of sugarhigh and probably seasick kids for you while you and Clay and Cougs get up to nefarious dealings with mommy and daddy Carson, all while I’m afk and can’t monitor you or provide you with any kind of backup if something goes wrong?”

“We’re missing our window. Do this right and we won’t need backup.”

“You know, you are so lucky I learned all those magic tricks over the summer. I told you there’d be a real world application.”

“You still owe me my lucky quarter. And do not tell me it’s behind my ear.” Aisha scooped up Jensen’s hoodie from the back of his chair and shoved it at his chest. “Cover yourself, for god’s sake.”

“No problem. Hey, do you have a hat I can borrow?”

“I know where we can get one. Hurry up.”

Aisha held the door and for once, Jensen got to be on the other side of it as it swung closed.


End file.
